


If This is My Only Chance, Let Me Be Here

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [42]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Alfor makes an attempt at parenthood.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 25
Kudos: 186





	If This is My Only Chance, Let Me Be Here

Alfor listens to everyone bicker and argue about hows and whys in silence. He's too busy dwelling on Romelle's words, about that blue ember fading into nothing. He only pays attention when someone shouts Lance's name and the boy jumps.

“What? What is it?”

“Who tried to kill you and why?” Adam stares at the young prince. “Where the quiznak has your head been?”

Alfor bristles, not in the mood to hear anything against his son.“If you cannot maintain the proper level of decorum when addressing my son, I-”

Lance cuts in. “Apologies, my thoughts were elsewhere. Why do you need my opinion?”

“You’re the idea guy,” Adam sighs. “Nobody takes a shit around here unless you think it’s a good idea. And then I get your ideas, and turn them into flowers.” Adam smiles, raised fingers opening like a flower in bloom. “So? Who wants you dead?”

"I... Don't know. Aside from the obvious, it could be anyone." The young prince sighs, wraps his arms around himself.

"What do you mean, 'aside from the obvious'?" Lotor seethes. Lance just sighs, visibly exhausted. Alfor's hand twitches, wanting to reach out, put a hand on his boy's shoulder. Something holds him back.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm just-" The boy sighs again. "Sorry."

"Let's begin with security," Alfor murmurs, wanting to help. "Who knows how to get into your tower?"

“Hunk, Pidge, and Lanval. I trust them.”

“Guess I’ll be interrogating people in the morning.” Adam stretches his arms above his head.

“You’ll be interrogating people immediately,” Alfor growls. “Run along and do your job, before I find someone else to do it for you.”

He doesn't mean to be unkind, harsh, but Alfor is scared. He's terrified of losing his son. His son almost died. He was almost _murdered_. Adam simply nods, bows out of the room. His gaze doesn't waver, face cool and unruffled despite his king's anger. It's one of the reasons Alfor finds Adam unsettling.

“The rest of you go find rooms to stay in, in the heart of the castle. No windows.” Coran herds everyone out of the room, offering his husband a pointed look on his way out. Before anything more can be said, Alfor is alone with his son.

The silence rings in his ears like the clash of cymbals. His son, still dressed in bloodied nightclothes, folds his arms, turns away, gazing at his little spouse in the pod.

“I know you still think I’m in the wrong,” Lance whispers. “But just because you learned to live as a monster doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

Alfor sighs, sits on the floor on tired bones. “It was a different time. In the beginning, I dreamed of having your choice. But your grandmother, Queen Amasi, loved war. She loved the idea of conquering worlds, of reaching across the stars and painting them in blood. And what she wanted more than anything was to squash out the seemingly primitive race living right next door. Milophoebs of war, and as the young future prince and king, I was expected to take part. When my queen gave the order for me to slaughter a village of innocents, I chose the easy way.”

“The easy way would have been to say ‘no’.” Lance grinds his teeth under Alfor’s gaze.

“No, my son. You were born a prince. You’ve been disobeying me since before you even learned the word ‘no’. I only ever knew how to say yes.” Alfor licks his lips. “A man who says yes to a royal’s every whim has no business being a royal themselves.”

“The blind following the blind.” Staring at his spouse in the tube, Lance doesn’t quite mind this distraction.

“More like the blind leading the seeing.” Alfor watches his son, the one who could have been dead over a varga ago. Thank the Ancients he’s still here, standing chilly in front of him. He doesn’t give a damn about his reception. All he feels is relief.

“I'm worried that there was no assassin for Keith,” Lance whispers. “I'm worried an enemy knows I haven't bed him. But I didn't say anything because it’s possible they didn’t think we’d put up such a fight. Maybe one of their group was lost in transit. There could be any number of reasons, and with each reason, more motives and more questions.

“The question for the immediate is how they got in. I’ve been thinking about it, and… I think they somehow accessed the breezeway doors in the garden. When we returned from the ball, the garden doors were open, so I closed them. It didn’t occur to me then, because Keith’s left them open before, but I don’t think they were opened at all this quintant.”

“Hm. They would have left them open because they weren’t sure when you would return. A cold room with open doors is far less suspicious than a cold room with closed doors.”

“One came in first. Easier to hide. Then, once we were asleep, they let in the others. They were probably under our bed the entire time. In our room. Touching our stuff. Just hanging out, waiting for us to fall asleep.” Lance’s fingernails dug into his palms.

Alfor simply hums, watches his son slough off that sense of security home typically affords. With his position, it's practically a right of passage.

“He loves that garden. I can’t take that away from him. Or the loft in the tower. Sometimes it’s the only good thing in his day. But I have to keep him safe, too.”

“Lance, that boy does not need your rescuing or your charity. He’s a child, not incompetent. Or helpless.”

“He’s my responsibility! Zarkon made him my responsibility!” Those brown fingers curl into his hair. “He said- When he- When he handed Keith over to me he told me to take good care of him! Zarkon said I had to give him the life that he couldn’t provide! And now he got hurt protecting me!”

“Lancel.” Alfor reaches out nice and slow, runs a gentle hand through his son’s hair. Those fingers loosen, slip away. “Zarkon could have given Keith all that you have and more. The difference is that you _wanted_ to do it, and he didn’t. He shipped off his own nephew because he was tired of the reminder.”

“Reminder?” Lance mumbled.

“That he left his brother to die alone out in the sticks and leave a little boy behind to fend for himself.”

“Oh.”

Alfor sighs, ruffles his son’s hair. “He’s not your responsibility, Lance. He’s not your ward, or your kit, or your pet. He’s your husband. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He needs a friend.”

They both know the situation isn’t that simple, that Keith does in fact need more than that, but reassurance is an exercise in selective truth. Lance bites his lip, looks up at him with cautious blue eyes. “We’re- We’re working on more than that? It’s, uh. I dunno. It’s something. Maybe even something good.”

“Took you two long enough. Much as I hate it, you are good together.”

“Finally coming around, huh? Guess you can teach an old shreika a new trick.”

“Cram it. I’m not that old.” Alfor smirks. “But yeah, maybe, this one time, I can overlook the kit’s… heritage.”

“Very generous of you.” Lance still laughs, tipping his head back against the pod. Almost relaxed. Alfor feels some weight fall from his shoulders. It's not too late.

“I never knew you were funny,” the boy murmurs.

“I didn’t use to be. I didn’t use to be anything. Melinor showed me how.”

“I… I never realized you cared about her.” 

“I _adored_ Melinor. She was my best friend. She made me a person, even if there are still parts of me that are missing. We loved each other deeply, in our own way. I miss her every second of every day.” The king chuckles. "I can still see the smirk on her face as she shoved me into Coran… 

“You’re doing a wonderful job, Lance. With everything. With the ball, and new legislation, and taking care of the people, and your relationship with Keith- You’re doing _amazing_ , and I’m proud of you.”

Alfor watches a bright shine collect along the rims of Lance's eyes. That shouldn't happen, he thinks. It shouldn't be like this. “Thanks,” the boy chokes, gulping. “I- Thanks.”

With a nod, Alfor gets to his feet. His son’s misty eyes break something in him and he doesn’t know what else to do about it except flee. “I’ll leave you to wait for him while I go put the fear of the Ancients into our guards. We’ll be increasing the watch from now on. If you insist upon it, your room has been cleaned and you may return to it. There will be guards posted outside your tower.” The king makes for the door, stops, turns back just before his exit.

“You’re taking tomorrow off. Both of you. Adam is off too, as soon as he finishes his interrogations. Give him more, if you can spare it. He looks ready to crumble.”

Lance nods, lets his father slip away again. He rises, begins to pace, fights to keep himself awake as he waits for his spouse.

Shiro leans silently against the wall just outside, lost in his own history.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: We dive into Shiro's past.


End file.
